Voodoo Child
by American Soldier
Summary: YAHF, the only unexplored possibility.


Voodoo Child

Disclaimer: own nothing. Get over it.

A/N: Inspired by the YAHF's of this world…I honest to God think this is probably the only unexplored possibility, so, rock on!

Summary: YAHF crosses the final frontier…to England 1973…or later, I dunno.

ĢĢĢ

Xander Harris watched in dismay as the final toy gun for sale was snatched away by a toddler. (A/N: original, isn't it? See what I've been reduced to?)

"Damn," he muttered, "Now I can't be a soldier."

He decided that, since he was here, he would search around and try and find something new…and cheap…to wear for his punishment with the runts.

He began his search by going through the costumes, hoping that maybe he could find something simple, like a Devil's outfit or something. As he sifted through the racks, he caught sight of something that most definitely would be expensive. It was a studded leather jacket, pretty old from the holes in it, but, still in good condition. He took it down from the rack and checked it out for a price tag, but, found none, so, he decided that it would be best for him to take it to the owner so that he could report it missing.

"Excuse me," he poked someone, a tall man with a sneering look, "Do you know where Ethan is?"

"I am Ethan, boy," the Englishman sneered, "Do not poke me again."

"Sorry," he muttered, "Ugh, I just wanted to give this to you, I found it amongst the costumes."

"…Hmm, let me see here," he jerked it out of his hands and examined it for a moment before smiling, "Oh, dear, how did this get out here? Thank you for finding this, boy, this is my old leather jacket. I must have put it out by accident."

He seemed to gain a thoughtful look before smiling and saying, "Here, it's yours."

"What," Xander exclaimed as it was thrust into his arms.

"I haven't worn that bloody thing in ages," the man explained, "Have it. All it does is gather dust anyway."

"…well, thanks," Xander said, exasperated and confused.

ĢĢĢ

Ethan watched in pure delight as the young man walked away. He figured that he had probably put it out by accident, but, it was infected with his magic now. Whoever wore it would become him, probably from back in the day, when Eyghon had come about. He found this possibility absolutely delectable, another little him running around, causing mischief. Plus, the sheer chaos of having two beings doing magic at the same time would assuredly gather favor with Janus.

"This will be interesting."

ĢĢĢ

Xander looked on in fear as people began to change around him. Then, he felt something hit him…

ĢĢĢ

"I'm a ghost," Willow muttered as she stood up.

Chaos was, without a doubt, the order of the day. Little monsters were running around, vampires, cheerleaders, skeletons…it was terrifying.

Willow walked further into the street, avoiding people as much as she could, till she noticed someone familiar.

"Xander," she called out to him, "Xander!"

He turned around in his leather jacket, his gaze a mixture of surprise and amusement, till it turned into a sickening leer.

"My, my," he said in a British slur, "Aren't we a tasty tart."

Willow looked down and immediately blushed, realizing that he was talking about her outfit.

"Sorry, love," he said to her, reaching around to grip her shoulder, "Haven't got any change."

Before she could slap him in outrage, he leaned down further, and fell through her.

"Bugger all," he screamed as he jumped up, "Just what I need, being approached by a ghostly bint!"

"…Ok," Willow muttered, "Xander, quit it…I'd slap you if I could, but, I can't." 

"Who the fuck's Xander," she swiped at him, passing through, "Damn it, that's cold!" 

"You don't know who you are," she asked.

"I know perfectly well who I am," he smiled, "The question is…should we get moving?"

"…What?"

He pointed behind her. She turned around, and saw the two demons approaching.

"We should, shouldn't we," she nodded, "Then, shall we?"

ĢĢĢ

"So, you know about demons and ghosts," Willow asked as the two came to safety.

"Of course," he stated casually, "I knew about them when I was barely out the crib."

"Really," she asked, "Cool. Anyway, we need to find Buffy. Where do you think a Slayer would go?"

"…Did you just ask me where a Slayer would go," he said in a soft voice.

"Yeah," she said, confused.

"What year is it," he asked quietly.

"1997," she said.

"…I need to sit down," she watched him slowly descend onto the grass.

"What's wrong," she asked.

"…Magic," he said before turning to her, "You called me Xander, right?"

She nodded.

"…Possession, but, how," he stopped suddenly and examined his jacket, "Of course, the jacket. Tell me, how did 'Xander' come across this jacket?"

"He got it from a costume shop, he was going as…well, nobody, for Halloween."

"…What shop," he demanded.

"This new place, Ethan's," Willow said.

He stared at her for a second before smiling.

"That fucking wanker," he muttered, "Ethan must've caused this. I'm gonna kick his arse right well."

"You know who did this," she asked.

"Yeah, I do," he said with a smile, "It's been fun, tart, but, for the moment, I'd just say go and find this Slayer and tell her Watcher to go ram a stick up his arse."

"…I don't think Giles'd find that fun," she muttered in disgust as she watched him run off.

ĢĢĢ

Ethan watched in joy as the news broadcast his work. He'd had many proud moments in his chaotic life, but never one quite like this. It was…too beautiful for words.

"Janus is so proud," he said with a sigh.

"You're probably right about that, you wanker," Ethan turned around sharply and gasped.

"…Oh, bugger," Ethan muttered out as he turned around.

"Hello, Ethan," the young man said in a cockney accent.

"…Aren't you supposed to be a younger version of me," Ethan questioned.

"You," he laughed, "Never, you fucker. Oh, the jacket…nah, mate, this here's not your jacket."

"…It's not," Ethan paled as he considered the possibilities.

"Nah, mate," he smiled, stalking closer, "This jacket was the one you stole from me after Eyghon…you remember, don't you? Randall never stood a chance."

"…Hello, Ripper," he quaked out.

"Now that we've gotten caught up," the young version of Rupert Giles said with a grin, "I believe it's time for the grand finale, don't you?"

"…This is gonna hurt, isn't it," Ethan replied.

Rupert leaned in close, made eye contact, and smiled that eerie smile of his, "Oh, you have no idea."

ĢĢĢ

"You say that he knew this Ethan," Giles was very flummoxed by what Willow was telling him, "And that he was…angered to hear that he was nearby."

"Yeah," Willow remarked, watching as Buffy, or Lady Elizabeth, stared in awe at the candles that never stopped burning, as she called them, "He spoke with a cockney accent, and he liked to…cuss, and," she straightened up at this, "He called me a tasty tart, whatever that is."

He broke his glasses in half.

"…Did he happen to say what year he thought it was," he asked quietly.

"No, but he did ask me what year it was," she remembered, "He was talking about possession and…he told me to tell you, 'the Slayer's Watcher,' to ram a stick up your…well, you know."

"…Willow, I need you to find Angel, have him keep an eye on Buffy," Giles said, getting up and grabbing a sword, "I'm going to find Xander."

ĢĢĢ

"One more time, you blighter," Rupert smiled, holding a pair of pliers as he watched Ethan writhe on the ground, "How do I break the spell?"

"You don't know something about your body, do you, Ripper," Ethan ground out scathingly, "He's a friend of yours, Ripper. A student, in fact. He fights alongside you and your Slayer…how do you think he'll feel about this all?"

"Somehow, I doubt he'll give a shit," Rupert replied, "Now," he bent down and put the pliers against his eye, "Shall I begin?"

"Don't," the voice belonged to neither Rupert nor Ethan. Both men looked up and saw a tall, older man dressed in tweed.

"…Ethan, what have you done," Giles demanded.

"…You're me," Rupert said as he stood up, backing away slightly just in case Ethan tried to take advantage, "An older me…but, you're me."

"…For lack of anything else, yes," Giles said with a sigh, "I'm you in nearly thirty years."

"…You joined the tweed brigade," Rupert said with a frown, "You became a Watcher…you signed on to condemn an innocent girl to slavery to a war that no one can stop!"

"I keep her safe," Giles argued, "I help her live! You don't understand, not yet. You haven't experienced what I have, you don't know everything that I know…in some ways, I envy you…you're so blissfully naïve."

"…Maybe I am," Rupert responded, "But I know for a fact that you haven't faced everything yet, you haven't put her through the Cruciamentum…you haven't even begun to teach her about the First Slayer, have you?!"

"…No, I haven't," Giles said, "And I never will…not if I can help it."

"I hate to interrupt this surreal moment," Ethan said from the floor, "But, I'd really like to be going."

"Shut up," both Giles' replied.

"Tell us how to break the spell, you wanker," Rupert continued, "Or I'll sick the old guy on you."

"Quiet, you," Giles said with a smile.

"Heavens to Murgatroyd," Rupert smiled back, "Look who's grown a ball, two even."

"…Oh, bloody hell, I can't take this," Ethan said with a sigh, "Break the statue."

As Giles went forward, Rupert stopped him with a question.

"What'll you do with him," he asked.

"…Something," Giles replied, "Don't know what, though."

"…See ya, you wanker," Rupert said with a grin.

Giles smiled back, and lightly pushed the statue off the pedestal.


End file.
